Unfathomable
by Ripsi
Summary: We wonder sometimes, about the things that could never happen. Yet they do, and we question our mental state, or the flexibility of humor. How can love form in the darkest of hours?


A/N: This story was just a practice thing because I thought I was getting rusty. Sunday when I was typing this on my computer and I thought, "This seems ok, so I'll try it out." So then I had to write it (my poor fingers) and type it again, so please R&R peoples, cause I am going through so much to put this up.

Disclaimer: I don't own RE, but I own Monette.

My dearest daughter,

I never thought I would lose to your younger siblings like this. Somehow I see this as good, for their love and loyalty for each other will be their undoing. I really pray that you receive this letter. Your mother was right to take you back from me. Everything Ashford is set on a path for destruction.

Don't be like us sweetheart. Alfred and Alexia were not the ones I should have been looking for, but you refused to use that brilliant mind to help me. I was frustrated and pray that you forgive me for the very much unwanted "gift" I forced upon you. I will try to write as much as possible to you, but even now I can feel my intelligence slipping away from me. Now I can feel your pain almost.

Do not communicate with your siblings, hide you whereabouts, I fear they will come after you and the power you wield. Before their attack I wrote out a new will, and you will inherit all. Be my successor by undoing the wrong our family has wrought amongst the world.

Your Father,

A.A.

"_Si mama, yo se._ I just find it hard to believe that he would do that to us. Ok, I will be careful of the sharks here in the states. _Te amo mama, adios."_ Sighing, the young woman hung up the phone. A smirk crossed her face as she looked to the company sitting on the couch.

"Is _mama_ all taken care of?" asked the brunette, his green eyes gleaming at her.

"Yeah, what can I say? She worries about me here in the states." Her smile disappeared as the phone rang again, causing her to sigh exasperatedly. "Hello? This is she." Her company watched on as her face became hard and calculating, as if she were taking a test of some kind of great importance. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Curiosity hit him as her tone became desperate, and he felt like she was being harassed. "But I don't know any Albert Wesker! Yeah well forget you then 'cause I already told you all that I know: _Nada de nada._" She hung up, obviously upset with whoever she was talking with.

"What was that about?"

"Justin, don't even worry about it. Some weirdoes from 'HCF' or something claimed that a detective they hired was last seen with me, and that now he's missing." Placing a hand on her neck and massaging it, she added, "I have never met anyone with a name like that in my life. 'Wesker' is name I wouldn't easily forget."

"Don't worry about it. It's probably some punks playing around," he said playfully hoping to raise her spirits.

"They were very official sounding." She began gazing at the carpeted floor, hoping to escape the playfulness of Justin's stare. Overanalyzing things was how she had survived so long in America. Everywhere else was a cakewalk compared to this country. Too many corrupt people were there, but this was where "home" had been.

The coldest parts of Colorado constantly found new ways to drive her crazy. She tucked her black waist-length hair behind her ears. Smiling, she looked at Justin. "You're probably right. It's just, why would they call your apartment looking for me? They knew my name too."

"Monette, it was probably Bart and Sly. You know how they kid around all the time." A charming smile came across his face, melting away her fears instantly.

"Yeah. But I think I should get going right about now, I'm meeting a friend of mine at the bar," she lied. If there was a chance she was in trouble about something, she didn't want to hang around there and drag him into it.

"But you just got here," he protested. He stood up and reached for her, but she was already at the door, leaving his apartment. Once downstairs, she took a left and kept walking. At first, she didn't notice the sparse amount of people wandering around, but now she saw it was so.

"Where the hell is everyone?" she asked herself to ward off the silence that was killing her. As she neared the downward hill she saw the roadblocks, and deserted constructions site at the bottom. "When the hell…" She looked around and pulled her petticoat tighter around her body.

Her breath came out as gray clouds, and her nose was getting cold. An overhead streetlight cast yellow onto her skin, which was the color of café au laít. How could the street have been plowed like that already when Justin had just taken her to his place twenty-five minutes ago? A vibration in her pocket caused her to jump from the sudden movement, and she pulled out her cell phone looking at the front to see a number she didn't recognize. She opened the phone, and hit the top right button to reject the call.

"_Aye Díos mío_, help me get through this crazy night." She began down the steep hill's stairs, looking down and trying to concentrate on not breaking her neck in a fall. "I knew I should have driven my car," she mumbled regrettably. After she reached the bottom, a late night jogger rushed past her, almost running into her. "_¡Vete a la mierda!" _

The jogger didn't even look back at her, but kept on up the steps. The ringing of a phone invaded her ears, but this phone was a payphone, so she ignored it, continuing her walk to her house. At the end of the avenue she turned right, checking for cars, even though they couldn't get through. After her jog across the street she heard another payphone ringing, and a voice in the back of her mind said, "It's for you." The voice was making sense because, who would call a payphone at 11 o'clock at night?

"Hello?" she asked after a moment of hesitation.

"Ms. LaCour?" The deep voice sent chills down her spine as the fact that he knew her name hit her like a bat hitting a ball out of the park.

"What do you want?"

"A more sensible person asks, 'Who is it?' but I guess you have some clue of my identity."

"I don't care who you are but you're-"

"Scaring you?" The assumption caused adrenalin to kick in. Whoever this was wanted her, and they wanted her scared. "You look scared," the man added. She let out a breath and turned to look at her surroundings. "Don't fear me child. I just want to talk with you. Meet me at Ciaran's."

"Isn't that a witch pub?"

"Yes, but it's quiet there, and anything that needs to be said can be said without the wrong people hearing it." Click. She looked at the black, plastic phone in her hand as if it were going to give her answers, but she just placed it back.. The pub was a mellow place, only a five minute walk. And as soon as she walked in she smelled burning incense and all kinds of teas.

She checked her surroundings to find only the front was occupied with a few covens. Then it hit her that whoever she was meeting never told her where he would be. At that moment a young girl with a Scottish accent and brown curly hair to her shoulders walked up to her and said, "He's in the back." Monette thanked the girl with a nod of the head and walked to the back of the pub, taking in the sweet smells. In the very back in the right corner she saw a pale man wave for her to come over.

Her boots made a sound against the wooden floor, but she concentrated on the man, taking in everything she could about him. Despite how dark it was he had on black shades, black clothes, gloves, and black boots to match. His blonde hair stood out from his outfit, slicked back giving him a down-to-business look. She sat across from him in the booth, her brown eyes searching his face for any signs of betrayal. Something had to happen right?

"Ms. LaCour, how are you?" He gave her a smile, a smile that was not of good intentions. Detecting sarcasm in his whole body, she shifted in her seat.

"Pretty freaked out," she admitted. Although her father had told her in business you could never show vulnerability, she did because she felt this man could see right through her. His smile never left his face, and her eyes remained there also.

"Oh, where are my manners? I am Albert Wesker."

"The detective?" she asked unsurely.

"No, I'm no detective. I was once a police captain, but never a detective. I've been many things, soldier, police, fugitive, microbiologist." His grin broadened at the look on her face, for the last job stuck. He couldn't be. Could he?

"What do you want?"

"I just found you quite interesting is all. Alright," he admitted. "I'll admit I was sent here to find you, but only because your mother told me to watch you." He was lying.

"No."

"Of course she did."

"HCF- whoever the hell they are- called me. They're looking for you. Apparently you disappeared, and they're trying to pin it on me now." Wesker stroked his chin thoughtfully as if she'd asked him to solve an extremely hard math problem on an imaginary scale.

"You can call her if you want." Monette thought about this for a while. It was one in the morning in South America where her mother was. It was if memory served her right. "How about this: Tomorrow I'll come see you and we can call her up together. As for HCF, I have no idea what they're talking about."

"Fine." She accepted his proposal, and wondered what her mother could have been thinking sending him to watch her, if that was the truth. Sometimes things weren't as they seemed and Monette was determined to find out the truth about this man, even if it killed her.

A/N: The witch pub's name came from the name of a character's father in this series of books I'm nuts about: Sweep. That Cate Tiernan is something else huh? Well, please R&R me cause I need some kind of feedback. So pleeeeeeeeease?


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